Rise to Downfall
by Setep Ka Tawy
Summary: Mokuba wants the old Seto back, the one who actually cared. But Seto himself is more concerned about their current life of separation. Set before KaibaCorp takeover. Brotherly fluff, mild language. Please read and review!


**Author's Note:** Okay, this was definitely one of the most random fanfics I've ever written, and rather darker than my other Seto and Mokuba stories. Anyway, a few points of clarification. As is mentioned, this takes place shortly after Seto's "test" of "earning the name 'Kaiba'". The anime, at least, is unclear as to how much time passes from this point until he actually takes over KaibaCorp, as well as his age at this time (and to confuse me more, Japanese and English versions offer different views about this anyhow); I haven't read the manga for this part of the story (I don't even know if Noah's virtual world takes place in the manga), so you'll have to excuse my ignorance of anything mentioned there. If anyone feels the urge to enlighten me, please do so by PM, and I'll (attempt to) make the necessary changes.

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.

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**Rise to Downfall**

At first, Seto wasn't sure what had caused him to rather abruptly regain consciousness, pulling him unwillingly from the depths of sleep. Frowning , he lay there in the dark and silence, broken only by the soft exhalations of his own breathing; beyond that, he could hear nothing, and there was no movement in the dimness of his room. Perhaps waking up had simply been a reflex - after all, he'd been going short on sleep for several days now. He shrugged to himself, and relaxed back into welcome comfort. His senses dissolved into shadows once more.

What seemed like a half hour later, though in reality only moments had passed, he felt the sheets half drawn back, followed by a significant dip in the mattress, as though someone had sat down on the bed. Sleepily, he tried to roll over onto his back, but was impeded by the realization that there was indeed someone there.

A small, shivering someone.

"Mokuba…?"

Seto finally managed to shift his position so that he was facing his brother. Mokuba was busy cocooning himself in the sheets, and by the time he had finished, his head was roughly level with his elder sibling's shoulder.

Sighing, Seto brushed at his tired eyes and sat up slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so that he was looking down at his unexpected visitor. "Mokuba," he said again, very softly, "what are you doing here?" He shot a wary glance at the door, which his brother had had the sense to close behind him, but no one seemed to have heard….

"I missed you," Mokuba mumbled, drawing the sheets up over his ears.

His brother released an impatient breath. "You missed me?" he hissed, in incredulous repetition of the other's words. "You decided to wander over here, after midnight, and risk getting caught because you _missed me_?"

Mokuba seemed to shrink a little, but his eyes gazed imploringly upward. "I've barely seen you in the last four days," he explained, his tone slightly accusing. "And mealtimes don't count. I wanted to make sure you still know I exist."

Looking down at his little brother, shivering visibly even under layers of fabric, Seto found that he couldn't be annoyed for very long. Sighing with resignation, he lay back down on the pillow and murmured, with a faint smile, "So you missed me, huh?"

"Well, yeah." Without warning, Mokuba hid his face in the other's shoulder. Seto twisted his head to look over in astonishment, but all he could see was a cascade of thick black hair.

"Hey." He nudged the other's shoulder gently with one hand. "What's wrong?"

Mokuba's response was muffled. "Promise you won't laugh?"

Rolling his eyes, Seto nodded, even though his brother couldn't see the gesture. To clarify, he added, "I promise."

"I was having bad dreams." He felt Mokuba press closer, and it suddenly occurred to him how much of a kid his brother really was. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and murmured, "Like what?"

But Mokuba only shook his head numbly and buried closer to him.

After several moments of silence, Seto began to feel uncomfortable. "You know you can't stay here," he pointed out in a low voice.

"I don't see why not," came Mokuba's stifled, slightly petulant reply.

His brother kept his eyes on the ceiling as he said patiently, "Because you're not supposed to be here, and we'll both be in trouble if anyone finds out." He placed a firm hand on the other's shoulder, but Mokuba immediately went into leech mode, clinging fiercely to his sibling.

"Don't make me go, Seto…."

"Look, I don't see what the problem is," Seto replied, exasperated, trying to pry him off.

"I told you, I was having bad dreams." Mokuba lifted his face to look plaintively up at his brother. "And then I woke up, and everything was all dark and cold and lonely… can't I stay, just for a little bit?"

Seto stared seriously at him for a moment. "Oh, all right," he muttered finally, giving up on his attempts to detach himself from his little brother's grasp.

"Thanks, big bro." With his head tucked against the other's shoulder, Mokuba let out a soft noise of contentment and closed his eyes. Seto also relaxed, gazing blindly upward until shadows printed themselves on his field of vision, his breathing quiet and easy in the stillness. It was more pleasant than he cared to admit, lying here in brotherly accord, their worries and problems for the moment, forgotten… but then he remembered the risk Mokuba was taking in sneaking over here at this time of night, and he knew it couldn't last. He shut his eyes tightly, emitting a growl of frustration.

"What was that, Seto?" asked Mokuba sleepily.

"Nothing." Impulsively, he turned onto his side and put an arm around his brother's huddled form. Damn their stepfather, for making them live this hell of a lie! Seto knew how much Mokuba needed the support of an elder sibling, and he himself would have cracked from the strain long ago if it hadn't been for his brother's bright encouragement and optimism. But Gozaburo cared nothing for this bond - in fact, Seto was dead certain that, had the man had his way, Mokuba would still be back at the orphanage.

As though sensing these thoughts, Mokuba whispered miserably, "I wish it didn't have to be like this. At least back at the orphanage, we were always together…."

Seto went still, feeling a sensation of discomfort taking hold. Was his brother actually blaming him for the unhappy realities of their situation? And what was worse, this accusation wasn't entirely unfounded.

He drew back so that he was able to look fully into the other's eyes.

"Listen to me, Mokuba." There was a faint, pleading urgency in his tone. "I know some parts of our life are hell right now. I know sometimes it almost seems worse than - than where we were before." His voice became fierce as he continued, "But you've got to believe me when I say it won't always be like this - I'll make sure of it. Someday, soon, we'll be free to make our own destinies, and no one will stand in our way - no one will control our lives like they do now. But until then, we've just got to hang on and keep going, like we always have."

"I do believe you," Mokuba said, though somewhat uncertainly. "But, it's just so hard - not knowing when we'll be able to spend time together …."

"I know," His brother replied soothingly, running a hand through Mokuba's hair. "But we'll make it. I promise."

They both fell silent for a moment, and then Mokuba said unexpectedly, "Hold me."

"What?" said Seto, taken aback.

"Hold me." His brother demonstrated by wriggling closer. "Just for a minute." He added, with uncharacteristic cheek, "I'm feeling insecure."

Seto smiled faintly in response, and drew the other into a gentle embrace.

What might have been moments or minutes later, he felt someone poking him repeatedly in the arm.

"Hey. Seto. Wake up."

"What?" he asked dazedly, opening eyes he hadn't realized were closed. Glancing over, he saw Mokuba looking at him with good-natured laughter in his eyes.

"You fell asleep, Seto."

"Did I?" But his own amusement quickly faded. It had to be at least one thirty in the morning by now. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, sitting up quickly. "You'd better go, kiddo."

Mokuba's silence was telling, as was the swift fading of his smile. "Do I have to?" he said dejectedly after a few seconds.

Seto nodded, and then gently but firmly pulled his little brother upright. "I don't want you to be in trouble with - with our stepfather." His features twisted in distaste. Mokuba might have made a show of referring to Gozaburo as "Dad" when he was little, but his elder brother had never done so, for very pointed reasons.

_And I never will,_ he though savagely now, with surprising vehemence. _That - that bastard - he'll never replace our real parents. Never. He thinks he can keep us apart - but I'll make sure he doesn't succeed!_

Fired by this renewed determination, Seto turned and reached toward the bedside table. Pulling open the drawer, he dipped his hand inside and drew out a worn photograph. It showed himself and Mokuba as children at the orphanage, engaged in a game of chess, surrounded by the other orphans.

Holding the picture before him, he stared down at it for several long moments. Mokuba leaned over to look, exclaiming softly, "You still have that, Seto?"

His brother did not reply, but remained still, gazing at the mental time portal in his hand. Then, with unhesitating deliberation, he grasped the photo with his other hand and tore it in two.

Mokuba uttered a little cry of horror at this seemingly callous act. "Seto," he choked, disbelieving, "what -"

"It's okay, Mokuba," Seto reassured him, with a kind of cold calculation in his voice. "Here." He held out the half of the picture with his own younger image on it.

"Keep this with you. That way, you'll know I'm always there for you, even when you think I'm not." He smiled thinly, and in that look was a kind of bitter sardonicism that had no right to mar the face of one so young. "They can try to separate us, Mokuba - but they'll never win, because our bond is stronger than anything they can think of to throw against us." His voice was like steel brushing against itself - soft and unyielding.

Mokuba took the fragment of photo as though it were an injured baby animal, holding it delicately and gazing at it almost in awe. When he looked up, however, his face was still troubled.

"You promise we'll always be together, Seto?"

The other squeezed Mokuba's shoulders gently. "Always." He nudged his brother toward the door. "Now back to bed, Mokuba."

Mokuba sat there for a moment, as though deep in thought; and then, instead of leaving, he caught Seto in a tight hug, burying his face in his elder brother's shirt. Startled and caught off guard, Seto glanced down at the small, shaking form that was clutching desperately at him.

"Mokuba," he said softly, completely at a loss, "what's wrong with you?"

"It's not me, Seto," his little brother sobbed, his voice breaking at irregular intervals, "it's you."

"I don't understand," Seto replied slowly, feeling distinctly out of his depth. "A second ago you were fine, and now -"

"I can see what this place is doing to you, Seto," Mokuba cried, with quiet fervor. He drew in a shuddering breath, trying to regain some coherency to his words. "You've changed so much since we came here. You used to be so much more relaxed - you used to _laugh_." He pressed closer, and continued falteringly, "I don't even remember the last time I really saw you laugh. Now you're just so - so distant and - controlled - like you're keeping everything you used to be bottled up behind bars. It's like you don't _care _about anything anymore - nothing really matters to you." He raised tear-stained, imploring features. "I miss the old you, Seto…."

Shadows seemed to fall over Seto's eyes as he averted his face from that gaze. "The old me wouldn't have survived." He paused, then continued, "It's what I did with that company that's bothering you, isn't it?" His face was unreadable.

Mokuba nodded, dropping his eyes.

Seto raked a frustrated hand through his hair, sighing. "Look, Mokuba, I didn't have a _choice_ - I thought you understood that. I did what I had to - that's all there is to it. Did you _want_ to go back to the orphanage?" He looked piercingly at his brother, but then his gaze softened. "I never said I asked to be this way," he whispered. "But I can't go back to who I was." A pause. "I'm sorry."

Seto curled a hand around his brother's head and drew him close again. "I know I've changed," he murmured, "but never make the mistake of thinking I don't care - especially about you. My little brother will always come first, above everything else."

His other arm embraced Mokuba's shoulders, and for a long while he remained that way, trying to calm his distressed sibling. Gradually, the other's shaking ceased, but still Seto did not pull away. He knew his little brother needed this support. Only his hand moved, gently stroking Mokuba's hair in comforting repetition.

Finally, however, he was forced to ease away as weariness began its assault once more. Sniffing a little, Mokuba wiped at his eyes and glanced up again.

"Guess I should be going," he mumbled, unenthusiastically.

Seto nodded, but did not press the point, unsure of his own feelings on the matter. With obvious reluctance, Mokuba slid off the bed and padded over to the door. Once there, he looked back, and Seto saw his grip tighten on the torn photo.

"G'night, big brother."

" 'Night, Mokuba." The door opened, closed, and then his brother was gone.

Seto let his eyes slide down to his own half of the photograph, and he was seized by a powerful, irrational urge to tear the picture into shreds. Everything shown, everything it represented - all that was as good as a lie now. His jaw clenched, and it took all his willpower to force his hand away, to drop the photo back on the table instead of destroying it then and there.

Abruptly, he threw back the sheets and rose, striding over to where the floor length window opened up onto a balcony. It took only a few precise movements to unlatch it. A moment later, the strong, chill breeze was shivering the folds of his clothing, whipping his hair painfully into his eyes. He blinked automatically against the sudden sting, but most of consciousness was focused on the anger pulsing with unnatural force through his body.

"Damn you, Gozaburo," he gritted out, "I won't live like this! Do you hear me?" His voice rose, fuelled by a hatred previously only half known to him. "I won't be your pawn any longer - I won't let you tear us apart! You can't control me forever! And when I break free, I'll make you regret what you've done!"

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Seto slammed his fist hard into the window frame. For a moment, he simply stood there, seething. Then exhaustion overcame him, and he sagged back against the wall. He felt utterly drained.

"You're right, Mokuba," he whispered. "I _have_ changed… but it's too late to go back now."

He closed his eyes briefly; then, without bothering to shut the window, he stumbled back to bed. A soft exhalation of breath escaped him as he collapsed onto his back. His face was pale, his hair in disarray, and the rise and fall of his chest as he lay there was heavier than normal. Fatigued as he was, he didn't notice that Mokuba's photograph had been caught up by the wind and swept to a far corner of the room.

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Please review! May the Force be with you.


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